


bred to kill, not to care

by generalofchaose



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Finn Needs A Hug, Finn had a Shitty Life, Finn-centric, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Rated T for Too Many Feelings, Rated T for Too Much Italics, until these nerds came along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalofchaose/pseuds/generalofchaose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re designed to be disposable.”</p><p>In which Poe (and Rey and BB-8 and Han and Leia and the whole goddamn resistance base) show Finn just how not undisposable he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. do just as we say

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a prompt I saw lying around tumblr that simply said:
> 
> "We're designed to be disposable."
> 
> Aaaand of course I immediately thought of Finn and then I had a lot of feelings and I had to write them down and here we are...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FN-2187 meets Poe.

One of the first things FN-2187 remembered learning was the importance of his armor.  
  
“It keeps you safe,” they would say. The superior officers probably meant that in a very literal, your-armor-physically-shields-you way. FN-2187 saw it a bit differently.  
  
“It keeps you safe.”  
  
FN-2187’s armor kept him safe because it kept him anonymous. Another white helmet in a sea of marching bodies. And the bigger the group of bodies, the safer he was.  
  
Then FN-2003 was hit; Slip, they'd called him. (They all had nicknames, all except FN-2187 because to him, nicknames were dangerous, to him, nicknames singled you out.) Then FN-2003 was hit and all FN-2187 could think was, _NO_ and he fell to his knees by his dying comrade’s side feeling like his insides were being slashed.  
  
Stormtroopers were designed to be disposable. Stormtroopers were designed to be interchangeable. Stormtroopers were designed to be nameless, faceless, anonymous seas of marching white bodies. But when FN-2187 clutched at Slip’s armor and felt the life leaving the body inside it, he felt like he was losing something _important_.  
  
It was wrong. He knew it was wrong. Stormtroopers were _not_ supposed to rush to the sides of other dying Stormtroopers. He knew that. But knowing that hadn’t seemed to make a difference when it happened. Knowing hadn’t prevented the feelings of _no no stop please no_ that swelled up inside him and made him feel like he was going to throw up.  
  
And then Slip had raised a shaking glove and _marked_ FN-2187’s helmet. Marked _him_. And everything changed.  
  
When the order to fire on the village was given, FN-2187 raised his blaster. He raised his blaster and he aimed and he put his finger on the trigger and he tensed the muscle—  
  
Stormtroopers were designed to kill and be killed. FN-2003 had done half of that, now FN-2187 had to do the other half. It was in his training. It was in his programming.  
  
It was not in _him_.  
  
For some reason, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tense that finger muscle just a tiny bit more. He couldn’t kill these frightened faces in front of him. Couldn’t or wouldn’t? FN-2187 wasn’t sure. All he was sure about was that something had changed. He was different. He was _marked_. He was no longer just an anonymous body in a sea of white.  
  
And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.  
  
He’d felt a terrible tugging in his gut and turned around to come face to face with none other than _Kylo Ren_ , staring at him. Staring at _him_. Kylo Ren was _noticing_ _him_. How much had he seen? How much did he know? Did he know he hadn’t fired? Did he know that FN-2187 had _changed?_ He must have. FN-2187 looked different, felt different. He was _marked_ , no longer just another white helmet. _He was no longer anonymous._ And he had to get out.  
  
But first, _but first,_ he had to take off this fucking helmet.

 

* * *

   
  
Apparently, the man they’d captured, the man they’d killed and been killed for was a pilot. Convenient, huh?  
  
FN-2187 knew he couldn’t stay, not anymore. Slip’s final act had done something to him, and there was no going back now.  
  
It was almost too easy too get the prisoner. For a moment, FN-2187 had been almost offended by the lack of security. But then, the First Order didn’t need security against other Stormtroopers. Stormtroopers were their minions, their pawns, and they could always count on Stormtroopers to follow orders and do what they were supposed to do. There was no reason for a Stormtrooper to suspect another Stormtrooper. They were all interchangeable, after all.  
  
The harder part was the pilot. He had to talk to the pilot, to convince him to help him, to get him to fly him out of there. He’d tried to convey what he needed, but the pilot was just staring at him in disbelief and confusion. Like he had no idea what was going on. Frustrated, FN-2187 had pulled off his helmet. (His new helmet because his old was marked now, no longer anonymous, no longer interchangeable, no longer useful. Like him.)  
  
For half a second, FN-2187 had felt shocked at his own action. He saw mirrored shock in the pilot’s face and wondered, was this a good idea? Helping some random First Order prisoner escape and hoping he was grateful enough to take FN-2187 with him? Well, too late now. He tried again, tried telling the pilot that _this was a rescue_ and the pilot had finally understood. He said something about some kind of resistance which FN-2187 hadn’t understood and then had asked him why. Why was he helping him?  
  
FN-2187 stared at him. Why. The question he’d been trying to force from his mind. _Why_ had Slip marked him? _Why_ hadn’t he fired on the villagers? _Why_ had he changed? _Why_ was _he_ different?  
  
“It’s the right thing to do.”  
  
The words had shocked FN-2187. The “right thing to do?” FN-2187 had no fucking clue what the “right thing to do” was. He just wanted to _run run run_ as far as he could. And he needed a pilot to get him off of this ship.  
  
The man seemed to see right through him.  
  
“You need a pilot.”  
  
FN-2187 wanted to hug the man. Which made his insides twist all over again.  
  
“I need a pilot,” he breathed in agreement and relief.  
  
Then they were doing it, they were _doing it_ , they were stealing a TIE fighter, they were escaping, they were running away into the black, they were _being shot at holy shit_. The pilot yelled some stuff at FN-2187 about shooting back and he tried it and hey, look at that, turns out shooting nameless, faceless Stormtroopers was a lot easier than shooting frightened villagers. Maybe the armor didn’t really protect you. Maybe it made you a target, a less-than-living creature, interchangeable, disposable. Maybe being anonymous was a _bad_ thing.  
  
But FN-2187 didn’t have time to think on that because _escaping_ was happening and he had cannons to shoot and _shoot them he did_.  
  
FN-2187 felt exhilarated.  
  
Then the pilot asked for his name.  
  
“FN-2187,” he answered automatically.  
  
“FN— what?” The pilot was shocked. Appalled? FN-2187 wasn’t sure which.  
  
He felt like he had to justify his… name. Was it even a name? It must have been. It was all they’d ever given him. He told the pilot as much.  
  
“Well, I ain’t using it.” The pilot’s voice had an air of finality. “FN, huh?” He seemed to think for a moment. “Finn.” The pilot said the word like he was testing it out. “I’m gonna call you Finn. That all right?”  
  
For half a moment, FN-2187 wanted to protest because nicknames are bad, nicknames are dangerous, nicknames single you out. But then, no one had ever given him a _name_ before. A real name. And anyway, it was a little too late to be worried about being anonymous. He’d stolen a TIE Fighter, he’d helped a prisoner escape, he’d shot other Stormtroopers. There really wasn’t any turning back at this point.  
  
As he reached that conclusion, his face broke into a wide smile. _Finn_.  
  
“Finn.” He said it out loud. “Yeah. Finn.” He said it again because he could. “I like that.” He grinned. “I like that!”  
  
“I’m Poe,” the pilot shouted to him. “Poe Dameron.”  
  
FN-2187, no, _Finn_ couldn’t stop smiling. “Good to meet you, Poe!”  
  
“Good to meet you too, Finn!”  
  
They were introducing themselves to each other for the first time like how _people_ would and FN-218— no, _Finn_ was deliriously happy. Then a cannon fired on them.  
  
Right. Escaping. That was happening. Poe coached him through blasting the missiles sent their way, praising him as he hits them. Yeah, that’s right: praising him. Like he'd done something worthy of recognition. Before now, recognition had terrified FN-2187 because recognition took you out of the safety of anonymity, but the way Poe seemed to crow with approval made the twisty feelings in his gut feel light and warm and… good.  
  
FN-2187— _Finn_ kind of wanted to laugh and cry at the same time and it was possible that he was already doing both of those things but then he realized that Poe was not flying straight into the blackness of space by now.  
  
“Where are you going?” He felt weird asking the question, but he was probably allowed to ask where they were going, right? After all, he'd helped them escape.  
  
“We’re going back to Jakku.”  
  
What. FN— _Finn_ protested but apparently there was some droid (“BB unit, orange and white, one of a kind”) and Poe had to go back for it because it had a map to Luke Skywalker which was _utterly ridiculous_ because Luke Skywalker was a _myth_ and FN— _Finn_ opened his mouth to tell Poe this when they were hit and then they were tumbling down to Jakku and F— _Finn_ was terrified and angry because he was gonna die and he hadn’t even gotten used to his name yet and then there was a whooshing, tugging feeling and then _blackness_ … 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeere we gooooo


	2. bodies fill the fields i see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn wakes up after the crash.

When FN-2187 woke up he immediately knew something was very wrong. For a moment he just felt delirious and achy and oddly warm and... wait a second why wasn’t he wearing his helmet? Then the whole thing came crashing (ha, crashing) back to him and holy _shit_ did all of that really happen? He’d betrayed the First Order. He’d helped a prisoner escape. He’d escaped with him. He’d… he’d been given a name.   
  
_Finn_.  
  
Wait. Speaking of Poe…   
  
He stood up and looked around but all he could see was desert and well, wasn’t that just great? Because that meant he was back on Jakku and the First Order had probably tracked his exact trajectory. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible. But... where was Poe? He squinted at the air around him, trying to see if he could discern anything in the stifling heat. There was a pillar of smoke over the sand in the distance there. Where the TIE Fighter must have crashed.   
  
Poe must be somewhere nearby.  
  
Realistically, he knew he should probably be heading in the exact opposite direction of the TIE Fighter because, hey, remember how the First Order had probably tracked his exact trajectory? But he needed to find Poe. He needed to find the man who'd saved him, who gotten him out, who'd named him. So he headed towards it.  
  
It took forever and a half, but eventually he saw the broken Fighter and the smoke and the pieces of metal and glass and, hey, look there was Poe’s jacket, but... where the hell was Poe? Then the ground shook and shuddered and the sand started to sink under the TIE Fighter and all FN-2187 could think was _not again_. He screamed Poe’s name because he was not going to go through this _again_ , not with the man who he’d saved, who’d saved him. He screamed and he screamed but the sand payed no heed and swallowed the Fighter down into the earth and Poe was _gone_.   
  
Fuck.  
  
FN-2187 took in a deep shuddering breath. Poe was gone. Poe was gone. Just like Slip. Poe, the first real person he had met, gone. Forever. He wanted to call out again, to yell, to scream, to sink down into the sand and never come up again, but he knew it was no use. He had to move.  
  
He looked down at himself. He was covered in sand, still wearing his armor. His fingers were clutching Poe’s jacket so tightly, he could feel his pulse in his knuckles. For a moment, his vision swam as he stared at the jacket.   
  
No use, he reminded himself. He had to move, and he had to move now. Gritting his teeth, he turned away from… from the crash site and started to walk.   
  
He walked for what felt like hours, though for all he knew, it had only been minutes. The sun seemed to stay stubbornly at its peak, sending waves of heat pounding through the air, surging through him with each heavy step, each dry breath. As he walked, he thought. He thought about the First Order, about how he’d betrayed them. He thought about Slip and Poe, about how much it had hurt, losing them. Is this what it was like? Is this what being an individual person was like? Feeling like your insides were being ripped apart with every breath, feeling so hopelessly, helplessly alone? He couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever been alone before. Stormtroopers had no reason to be alone. Certainly not FN-2187. Being alone was too dangerous. It was always safer to stay in the crowd.  
  
But that hadn’t mattered on Jakku. It hadn’t mattered when Slip was shot down. Slip’s armor hadn’t protected him from that blaster shot, that blaster shot that had… that had… holy _shit_.  
  
Holy fucking shit.   
  
The blaster shot that had come from where the X-Wing was hidden, the same place Poe had come running from when Kylo Ren had killed the old man.   
  
It had been Poe.  
  
Poe had shot Slip. Poe had shot Slip who had marked FN-2187 who had changed who had rescued Poe who had named FN-2187 Finn. For a moment he felt sick, felt so so sick because he’d rescued Slip’s killer. Poe Dameron had shot Slip and killed him. Hell, if he was an enemy of the First Order, who _knew_ how many Stormtroopers he’d killed. He could have killed FN-2187 that night. He wouldn’t have known the difference, would have just seen all the Stormtroopers and fired unthinkingly into the midst of white-armored bodies...  
  
He felt like he couldn’t think. He couldn’t wrap his head around what felt like this massive thing that he was just barely teetering over. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated.  
  
Poe had shot into the mass of Stormtroopers because all he’d seen was the armor, the helmets, the blasters firing right at him. But the armor was supposed to _protect_ the Stormtroopers. It kept them safe. It kept them anonymous. But, maybe it made them too anonymous? Maybe it made them so anonymous, they were easier to shoot. Which meant… the armor _didn’t_ protect them? It… it made them targets. It made them interchangeable, disposable, easy to gun down _targets_. Poe had only killed Slip because he hadn’t known it was Slip. He’d just seen the armor, thought _Stormtrooper_ , and fired. The armor didn’t protect them. It never had.  
  
FN-2187 opened his eyes and looked down at himself again, seeing the armor that didn’t protect them, that turned them into targets, and suddenly felt angry. He yanked off a piece and threw it into the sand. _So there_. He did it again. And again. And again. And again until he was taking the whole damned thing off because _fuck this_. Soon he was just in the thin black shirt and pants he wore under the armor and thank _fuck_ because that felt so much better. His armor was gone. Gone forever. Like Slip. Like Poe.   
  
FN-2187 looked at Poe’s jacket, still in his hands. It hadn’t been Poe’s fault. Not really. And it didn’t matter anyway; he was dead. Finn rolled back his shoulders, hearing little pops run through his spine. He looked at the vast stretch of sand in front of him. Slip was dead. Poe was dead. Finn would be dead too if he didn’t keep moving. Feeling resolved, he slipped Poe’s jacket over his shoulders and kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what the ratio of swears to italics is in this chapter...


	3. live off lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn finally comes to an outpost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update! Classes started and I couldn't figure out how to start the chapter...

The next bit went like this:  
  
He was hot. He was tired. He’d been walking for who knows how many hours. He finally came to an outpost where he drank some long needed water and saw some girl getting beat up. Which.  
  
Before he realized what he was doing, he was running towards her, though it quickly become very clear she didn’t need his help. She was bending down to get the net off her droid, her orange and white droid _now wait just a minute_ when suddenly she was running after him with a very determined, very frightening look on her face. So he ran.  
  
He ran until she came out of nowhere and wiped his feet from under him and called him a thief and the droid started _shocking_ him holy shit. He really had no idea what’s going on here.  
  
Then she said, “The jacket! This droid says you stole it.” And oh. Oh. “Where’d you get it? It belongs to his master.”  
  
Geez.   
  
“It belonged to Poe Dameron.” FN-2187 sighed. “He was captured by the First Order. I… helped him escape, but our ship crashed.” He swallowed. It hurt talking about it. “Poe… didn’t make it.”   
  
“So you’re with the resistance?” The girl looked impressed. He’d never seen anyone look at him like that. He babbled an affirmative, because he could only imagine what she’d look at him like if he told her the truth, and her eyes lit up.  
  
Then they saw the Stormtroopers, and all he could think was to run again. He grabbed at the girl because he was not losing another _no way_ and they sprinted from Troopers and explosions, running and dodging and hiding, and she yanked her hand away, which, fine, okay, that was fine, but then they were running again and he did it again without thinking. Then there was a huge blast and they were knocked apart.  
  
He must have lost some time after the blast because he opened his eyes and she was leaning over him, looking concerned, which gave him an odd rush of something. Something nice.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
She gave him a look, and for a moment he thought, maybe she’d felt the strange thing too. But then she was pulling him up and they were off again, towards a quad-jumper, then, when that was blown up, some kind of round ship the girl had called “garbage.”  
  
And then they were off. She was flying while he was shooting, and it felt uncomfortably familiar. But this time… this time he was going to do it right.   
  
“Stay low!” he shouted to her. “It confuses their tracking!”  
  
“I’m going low!” she shouted back. “What are you doing back there?”  
  
“I’m working on it! Are the shields up?”  
  
“Not so easy without a co-pilot!”  
  
“Try sitting in this thing!”  
  
They were clearly struggling, and he could feel it, he could feel it heading towards what happened last time and just. No.  
  
“We need cover, quick!”  
  
“We’re about to get some!”  
  
Okay. Okay, that was good. Just focus on shooting them down. Come on… come on… _focus_ …  
  
“Nice shot!”  
  
For a moment he was back in the TIE Fighter and he felt that shock of fear that accompanies the praise, the recognition, the feeling of being singled out and he wanted to scream. It was happening again. No. He just had to keep a cool head, keep focus, keep shooting those bastards down, keep—   
  
_Wham!_  
  
He was stuck. He couldn’t move the cannon. He told the girl this, and all he heard was, “Get ready!”  
  
“Okay!” he shouted. “For what?”  
  
Then they were hurtling into the debris of an old, massive ship, weaving in and out, curving hard and fast. Then the ship was flipped over, and he had the shot.  
  
He took it.  
  
There was a huge boom as the ship above them exploded, and then, they were off. They’d done it. _They’d done it_. He felt elated, relieved, and kind of like he was about to throw-up all at the same time so he rushed out into the corridor, straight into the girl. For a moment they just babbled excited compliments to each other, still full of adrenaline and something else that made his heart soar: Victory.  
  
Then, “I don’t know your name.”  
  
Shit. Name. His name. Resistance fighters had names. Like, actual names not letters and numbers strung together. But then… he had a name, right? He’d been given one.  
  
“Finn,” he said. For a moment, he was just relieved the right words came out. Then he realized she was probably waiting for him to ask hers. “What’s yours?”  
  
“I’m Rey.” She smiled at him. He smiled back. They’d just exchanged names like normal, regular people and everything was going to be fine. He… he could be Finn. He could do that. Finn the Resistance Fighter.  
  
Not long ago, he had been a Stormtrooper. A soldier. A nameless, faceless, empty suit of armor that had belonged to the First Order. Now he was wearing a jacket he’d stolen, a name he’d taken, a cause he’d borrowed, a face he’d hardly ever used before, and he had never felt more… himself.  
  
Slip was dead. Poe was dead. And… so was FN-2187. He was Finn, now. Finn. A good name given to him by a good man. And he’d better start living up to it. First step? No more lying.  
  
“Rey…” he started, but then there was a loud noise and steam was coming out of the floor.   
  
“Help me with this!” Rey cried. She dug around in the grating, talking about wrenches and motivators, and Finn found himself trying to reason with a droid he couldn’t understand to tell Rey the location of the base. The truth would just have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could definitely say when the next chapter is gonna be up but... yeah... but I promise I will finish this fic. Eventually. Yep.
> 
> But thanks so much for reading so far! More to come!


	4. running blind through killing fields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn stops lying. Rey is taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a fast update, I guess?

Finn finally tells Rey the truth on Takodana in a desperate plea to get her to leave with him. He tried, alright? He _tried_. He tried being a resistance fighter, a _good_ _man_ , but he knows it can’t last. He wasn’t _made_ for that. He wasn’t made for heroics and adventures and Rey and BB-8 and Han Solo and Chewie.  
  
He was made to _serve_. To listen. To follow orders. To march to his death in a straight line. He tells Rey, or, _tries_ to tell Rey, but he sees that she’s different. She can go off, be the hero, fight the First Order. And she will. But Finn? Finn can only run. So he does. He turns around, walks out, tries not to look back.  
  
He doesn’t make it far.  
  
Finn’s helping his ride to the outer rim load their cargo when the sky explodes into balls of fire and all he can think is, _Rey_ and the next thing he can think is, _Starkiller Base_ , and he knows he’s gotta get back there. Because if Starkiller Base just fired, and that must be what just happened, it _must_ be, then there’s no where he can run. There’s no where far enough he can hide. And he may have just met these people, but he has to tell them, they have to _know_.  
  
He rushes back to Maz’s place and sees Han Solo staring at the sky with a look of utter dread on his face. For a moment he hesitates. Because now they know. Now they’ll look at _him_ like that. Like he’s… like he’s a Stormtrooper. Which he is. _Was_. Was. He is no longer a Stormtrooper; he is _Finn_. A… well, maybe not a _good_ man. But a man who can help.  
  
He grits his teeth and continues pushing through the crowd to get to them, because they need to know, he has to tell them, they need to know what just happened. Because maybe they can stop it. Then he notices Rey’s not there.  
  
“Where’s Rey?” he asks, and Maz gives him that look again, that scrutinizing look she gave him across the table, and next thing he knows, Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber is in his hands. Hands that once held blasters given to him by the First Order are now holding _Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber_. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, however, because the ceiling above them shakes and then Han, Maz, and Chewie are running out of there, Finn hot on their heels.  
  
There is debris everywhere. Smoke. Shouting. All kinds of creatures running, some towards, some away. Maz turns to Finn.  
  
“Rey and BB-8,” she shouts, “They need you!”  
  
And Finn knows it’s true. They need him. _He’s needed_. And he’s not going to let him down. Only, “I need a weapon!”  
  
She grips his wrist. _“You have one!”_  
  
He looks at the lightsaber. Oh. Okay. Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber. He, Finn, former Stormtrooper, is going to use the lightsaber that once belonged to _the greatest Jedi of all time_. Okay. That’s… that’s cool. That’s fine. He can do this. He turns it on. A bright, nearly blinding blue light bursts out from it. He can feel the power radiating off the saber, and it makes him feel strong. Brave. He rolls his shoulders back. _He can do this._ He's not going to let them down.  
  
He runs, holding the lightsaber like a sword, swinging it with complete abandon as Stormtroopers fire around him. He hits one, another, another, and keeps going. Then someone shouts to him.  
  
“Traitor!”  
  
Finn freezes. Slowly, he turns and comes face to face with a Stormtrooper who, Finn would imagine, is glaring at him like he would set him aflame if he could. _Because it’s true_. He is a traitor.  
  
The Stormtrooper, now that he has Finn’s attention, readies his mace which, Finn has to admit, is rather impressive. _Not as impressive as this_ , he thinks, and runs at him, lightsaber held high. Yeah, he’s a traitor. But right now? He’s a traitor with a _fucking lightsaber_ , and he’s sure as hell gonna use it.  
  
The two men fight, blows after blows, nothing hitting its target until _wham_ Finn is thrown to the side, lightsaber knocked from his hand. The trooper stands over him, and Finn thinks, _this is it_. Then suddenly the trooper falls. Finn looks around, eyes wide when he sees Han Solo running over, his own weapon drawn, Chewie right behind him. Han had shot the trooper. Han had saved his _life_.  
  
Shocked, he can only stare as Han reaches out a hand to help him up. “You okay?” Han asks, and Finn is just. _Shocked_. Han… Han had saved his life. He didn’t even think Han _liked_ him, and yet…  
  
“Thanks,” Finn gets out, standing up and picking up the lightsaber. Then,  
  
“Don’t move!”  
  
The two look around and realize they’re surrounded. Heart thudding painfully, Finn drops the lightsaber. Watches as a white gloved hand reaches for it. For a moment he wants to kick it. _No, you can’t have it. You don’t deserve it_. They’re marched back to a transport when the Stormtroopers start shouting and panicking, and Finn looks over and sees… well, he’s not sure what he’s seeing.  
  
“It’s the Resistance,” Han mutters, and oh. They’re saved.  
  
The X-Wings swoop around them, firing into clusters of Stormtroopers who desperately try to fall back. Han, Chewie, and Finn snatch their weapons back and rejoin the fray. Finn watches one of the X-Wings soar through fallen stone, turning sharp then coming back around for more. He grins. Rey would have _loved_ to see that.  
  
“That’s one hell of a pilot!” He shouts, feeling adrenaline and _victory_ thumping through his veins. They’ve got this.  
  
The Resistance showing up had really turned the tide of the fight, and just as Finn thinks it’s safe to start celebrating, he sees her.  
  
He sees Rey.  
  
Only… only she’s unconscious, being carried onto a First Order transport ship by none other than Kylo Ren and he feels like he’s going to throw up.  
  
“Rey!”  
  
Anger, fear, and more anger tears through him as he shouts her name, shouts again and again, sprinting after the ship even as it pulls away and swerves into the distance.  
  
“Rey, Rey! No, no, no, no, _Rey!”_  
  
Fuck. _Fuck_. No. No, no, no, this was not happening, _this was not happening_. He had to do something. He had to tell someone. He had to go after them. He had to… he had to…  
  
He runs to where he saw Han and Chewie. “They took her!” he all but shouts, “He took her! She’s gone!” But Han waves him off. Finn wants to scream, wants to shake the man, because _the First Order has Rey Kylo Ren has Rey_ only then there’s some lady walking out of one of the ships and Han looks like _he’s_ about to throw up. Or run away. Finn watches as the two greet each other, and even he can see the amount of tension between them, then he and BB-8 are ushered into one of the ships (wait, where did BB-8 come from?) and they leave, heading for who knows where.  
  
The whole way over, Finn feels like his heart is never going slow down, feels like his stomach is never going to be reattached to his body. Rey’s gone. _Rey’s gone._ They took her. They took her away, and who knows what they were doing to her. Why had they even taken her in the first place? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was he needed to get her back. _He wasn’t going to let anyone else die._  
  
They land on a planet called D’Qar and rushes out even though he has no idea what he’s supposed to do or where he’s supposed to go. He doesn’t belong here. He just needs to get Rey back. He sees the X-Wings from before landing, watches the one he’d noticed earlier. The pilot jumps out of the ship, and Finn squints because something almost seems familiar about him. Then suddenly BB-8 whirls past him, almost knocking him over, heading right towards the pilot who is taking off his helmet and. And.  
  
It’s,  
  
_It’s Poe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so I guess it's not going to be until the end of the next chapter when we'll finally see some plot that isn't from the movie... in the mean time, thanks for sticking with this!

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles come from the Metalica song Disposable Hero which is 300% Finn.


End file.
